


Shadows Chase You But I’m Right Here To Embrace You

by IHaveNothingToDo



Category: The Arcana (Visual Novel)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Fluff and Angst, Other, THIS IS A THREE SHOT NOW BC I HAVE NO SELF CONTROL, Touch-Starved, Touch-Starved Julian Devorak, and the third chap is fluffy touch starved nonsense!, second is the morning after the angst which is just another name for ~DRAMA~, so first chap is angst
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-28
Updated: 2020-04-25
Packaged: 2020-05-28 06:55:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,575
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19388839
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IHaveNothingToDo/pseuds/IHaveNothingToDo
Summary: To be completely fair, the day had started out shit so it really wasn't all Julian's fault. Just mostly. Kind of.Ugh...A three shot. In which Julian is just alittle bittouch starved and bolts, while you chase him around town and eventually,eventually, work out what's wrong.





	1. Why Do You Run?

**Author's Note:**

> Working title  
> To Be Completely Fair Part ?: A Julian Is A Dumbass and You’re Too Quick To Temper kinda fic

You duck under the arm of a drunk, barely avoiding being doused in the contents of their tankard. The putrid smell of unwashed bodies and alcohol more akin to paint thinner then anything drinkable, is nearly enough to make you turn back. But. If there is even a snowball's chance in hell that Julian is in here somewhere…

You push forward. 

“Barkeep!” You call, shouldering your way far enough forward to see the person behind the counter, “I'm looking for someone-”

“Ain't we all,” the person to your right mumbles in their drink. You ignore them. 

“Tall, red hair, eye patch-” You briefly consider say ‘tits out’ but decide to refrain, on the mild worry that the barkeep might send you to a brothel rather then to Julian, gesturing vaguely at your chest and hoping for the best.

Thankfully, the barkeeps eyes light with recognition, “Kind of a sad sack? Goes by Dee? Bit of a-” 

The rest of the barkeeps words are drowned out by the cacophony of the place's newest fight. You scowl, straining to hear the barkeep but then someone shouts “GET BACK HERE YOU LECHEROUS REDHEADED SOCK” 

None of those words make sense together but you’re confused enough to whip around, fighting words, born of a day’s worth of fruitless searching and frustration, on your tongue. Those words die when you make eye contact with Julian across the room, right before he vanishes out the door to avoid a bottle of gods know what being thrown at his head.

The bottle shatters and combined with the sound of the door slamming shut, the place goes quiet. 

“-keeps ordering Salty Bitters,” the barkeep is saying. Apparently they’ve been here so long stuff like this doesn't even phase them anymore. You don't have time to listen further. 

“I GOT HIM THANKS!!” You shout over your shoulder, taking advantage of the still and quiet to run as fast as you can after him, diving through the nearest window the way Portia taught you to. You land too hard on your shoulder, jarring it against the cobblestones. Still need some practice then. 

The sound of running footsteps has you scrambling up out of the pain, barely stopping to give your shoulder a quick assessing squeeze before scanning the roads for Julian.  


This is the bad end of town. The _bad_ bad end. The end only the really rotten pirates and other scum gather just to pick fights and get drunk before going off to do who knows what terrible thing. It really is a wonder you didn't think to look here sooner-

THERE!

A flash of a red cape, the sound of someone clambering up the side of a building in shoes that we never intended for climbing buildings. 

_Julian_

There is no way you can catch up, with his long legs it’s already a fight to keep pace and that’s when the two of you are just play racing in the forest and he doesn't have a lead and- 

An idea hits you. 

Running. Running as fast as you can, you cradle your still aching shoulder close to your body, subtly turning your head so you can keep track of Julian’s shadowy form out of the corner of your eye. You fake stumble a few steps and see the shadow on the rooftop slow a little. He’s watching you back. This _will_ work, you tell yourself, legs starting to burn from the constant running. Another fake stumble. You slow down a little to drive the lie home, tearing your eyes away from Julian to scan for a suitable alley. Aa Ha! _There_. It’s dark, tall, and you can see no easy escape from it. It’s perfect. 

You slow some more, turning your face to the sky and spinning in a few fast circles, expending the last of your momentum from running and inching closer to the alleyway. Two birds. One stone. You spin again, slower this time, searching the rooftop like you’d lost track of Julian, like you can’t see him lingering on the roof of the building just to your left. Another spin. Almost ...almost…

Dramatically you fall sideways into the mouth of the alley, foot twisting on a stray cobblestone, nothing major but still something to be believable. From a distance. 

You hit the ground on your already sore shoulder, clenching your teeth against the involuntary hiss of pain, and muscle yourself upright, flattening yourself against the wall to wait. 

Your heart twinges at the thought of Julian’s face when you explain to him the levels of deceit you just pulled to get him here but the relief of scrabbling footsteps coming towards you floods through your veins like the most expensive of drugs and the twinge eases. 

He’s calling your name.

Calling and calling, voice just edging on desperate as he passes your hiding spot, his one good eye scanning the stone floor of the alley for you. 

The twinge comes back. Then. so does all the rage from earlier. All the frustration of a day spent searching and searching and searching-

You swing out from your spot, eyes blazing with anger, hands blazing with magic, “Julian Devorak,” He finches, wheeling around to face to you. For a split second the light in your hands illuminates the pure fear on his face. Then his mask of arrogance falls into place and your heart shatters at the sight of it. 

“Julian Devorak.” you repeat, softer this time. The light in your hands dim to a soft candle glow as you approach, “Where have you been?” 

He pulls back his shoulders, drawing on all of his impressive height for this, “Oh you know. This and that, him and her.” His tone is insufferably smug. By the look on his face he knows it too. 

Taking a deep breath, you close your eyes briefly, willing all the nasty things you want to say off of your tongue, “Drop the act Julian.” 

The arrogance mask falters. Honesty it is then. 

“I am tired,” you continue taking a small step forward. “My feet hurt.” Another step. “My shoulder is killing me.” Step, you’re close enough to touch now. “And I just want to know where you’ve been and why you left.” You stop, you know now not to crowd him like you used too. It’s always give and take with your Jules. You’ve taken this much. Time to see who gives. 

.

.

.

His mask cracks and falls, leaving you breathless with the look on anguish in his eye. You give first, diffusing your magic completely, letting him weep in the safety of darkness. 

He gives next, reaching a trembling hand to your face. The leather of his glove is rough and cracked against your skin. You’d have to mend them again. Later though. Much later.

You lean against his hand, your own curling up around his wrist to keep him there. You press a kiss to the leather, “Talk to me baby.” 

.

.

.

Julian _breaks_

He falls backward with a choked off cry of your name, hand ripping free of your grasp to curl against his collar bones. “Please-” he begs, you don't know what for, “ _Please_.” 

“What baby?” Your own voice warps with emotion but you strong arm the tears back, “please what?” 

Julian presses further back into the darkness of the alley, and you follow slowly, lest you lose him to the blackness. 

It’s a chant now. An endless stream of, “please please please _please_ -” punctuated by cut off noises that might have been a sob if given proper air. Your heart feels like it’s being torn in two. 

Eventually Julian hits the back wall of the alley with a muffled thump of fabric on stone. You stop too, not wanting to push him into anything dangerous. So you sit, right where you stood, on the cold dirty stones of the alley and you wait. 

.

.

.

You wait long enough for your sitting bones to ache as much as your shoulder. You wait long enough for the noises and sniffling to die down. You wait long enough to hear the whisper of fabric against stone as Julian sits down across from you, a slightly darker blob in the heavy weight of shadows at midnight. 

Ugh. You _are_ tired if you’re thinking the way Asra speaks his spells. 

You wait longer still, till your shoulder struggles to support your weight and you slide a hand under your clothes to press gently at the inflamed skin. 

“Let me see that.” 

A shadow moves, tall and fluid and terribly composed for someone who was crying. 

You let him come, hand still resting under your clothes. It’s warm under all those layers, and your hands have long since gone night time cold. You give up on not thinking like Asra’s spells, as Julian crouches beside you, prodding you gently with one long finger. 

“Let me see that,” he repeats. 

You sigh, easing your hand out of the warmth of body heat and cast a simple glow spell on the protection pendant Asra made for you moons ago. It’s bright enough to see the various clasps and ties of your clothes, to see the dirt and grime caked into the cracks of Julian’s gloves, but not much else. 

You shudder a little, as your layer fall away under Julian’s careful fingers, your shoulder exposed to him. 

“Bruised.” he murmurs, ghosting the back of one knuckle over the area it hurts worse. “But not broken, or strained.” he pulls away, “You’ll be sore for a while but other then not being able to sleep on that side while it heals, you’ll be fine.” 

In the light of your necklace you can see the toes of his boots as he stands, as he steps back, and, as he starts to walk away.

“So this is it huh?” you say to darkness in front of you. His bootsteps stop. “You just half undress me, leave me here to stumble home-” you sigh, pulling your clothes back to their proper places, “-and just show up whenever you feel like next, while we pretend this never happened?” 

A pattern. A familiar pattern. But like the pattern on those infernal drapes in the shop, you hate it. 

“What you have me do?” Julian asks coolly.

“Walk me home,” you say honestly, rolling to your feet, “Stay the night, wake up beside me tomorrow so we can talk about this in the morning.” _stop the pattern_ you think vehemently. 

“But you won't,” You know this, he knows this, might as well say it. “I’ll go one way, you’ll go the opposite-” you walk past him, emotions tight in your chest, “I’ll wake up alone for at least a fortnight till you burst back into my life all romance and dramatics and laughter till this happens again.” 

You count the steps you take away from him as you speak, “and again and again and again we go round.” 

“Why do you stay then?” 

You don't turn around to look at him. You don't know if you could keep walking if you did. 

“Because despite your best efforts and the arcana’s better sense, I still love you Ilya.” 

The name drop makes him gasp, a sharp inhale of chilly night air but you don't hear him move.

“Goodnight Ilya,” you breathe. 

When he does nothing, you bite your lip against the tears, and walk away.


	2. A Morning Of Emotion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The morning after, with all it's emotional whiplash and drama. It suits the two of you.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OKAY THIS IS A THREE SHOT NOW BC I HAVE NO SELF CONTROL. 
> 
> fair warning the apprentice is a bit all over the place in this one. I was aiming for early morning absurdity, making everything seem much bigger then it is and im still not quite happy with it but! Yall deserve a new chapter for how long you've been patient with me
> 
> ENJOY

* * *

When you wake, the sun is well overhead and there’s a note weighed down by a wood carving of Faust on your dresser. The faint hint of Asra’s magic tickles your nose, smokey with amusement and something just a little heavier. 

Hauling yourself to your feet, you gently pick up the carving, Faust’s mischievous face smiling back at you while you admire Muriel’s handiwork for a moment before reading the note

_I heard you come in late last night. You need rest. I've closed the shop for today, don't worry about opening, we will survive one day off. Faust and I have gone to Muriel’s and will be back almost as late as you were. Don't wait up. Have a good day. And remember that there is something for you at the kitchen table (if it hasn't moved yet) No rush, but the cards tell me you might want to check it out_

_xo Asra_

Hmm, unusual. Asra is the type to give you a gift in person, wanting to see your reaction. Maybe Muriel left you something? 

Wandering downstairs you yawn, rubbing at one eye and thinking about what to make for breakfast. Well. It’ll be about lunch at this hour. 

“Stove Salamander,” You call, tapping the edge of the stove with your foot as you round the corner, “I’m thinking of tea, do you mind?” A soft woosh of flame answers you, the salamander lighting it’s kindling with great joy.

“You want some tea too huh?” Rummaging through the cabinets you find a new box you’ve never seen before. “Something new shall we?” You ask the salamander. The glow from under the stove grows brighter. A yes then.

Following your morning routine of tea, bread and reading, you magic the kettle full and set it on the stove. Sprinkle a pinch of tea leaves on the floor, you smile as the stove salamander licks them up gleefully, sending out enough heat to get the kettle boiling much faster then it would normally take. 

The kettle whistles and it’s only when you turn from the stove and cabinets to check the counter for stray mugs that you see him. Sitting not even a foot away from you, on one of the bar stools an old customer gave you as payment a while back, is Mister Julian Ilya Devorak. 

You drop what’s left of your pinch of tea on the floor, and the stove salamander grumbles at having to reach so far but licks it all up from between your feet as you stare in shock. 

“Morning,” Julian offers lamely, an empty mug cradled in his bare hands. 

You reach over and pluck it out from between them and spin to the sink to scrub the remains of what smells like coffee from it. With your back once again to him, you blink it bewilderment, shaking your head and making faces at the sink basin while you scrub the mug half to death. 

Julian. _Your_ Julian. Is sitting at the breakfast counter, drinking _coffee,_ missing his coat and gloves and probably his boots to-

You drop the mug into the sink so you can brace your arms on either side of it, head spinning with all this. Julian has come home. Had come _home_ , come back to you and he’s dressed down enough to tell you he was planning on staying for a while. 

Your eyes narrow, the words “ _something for you at the kitchen table (if it hasn’t moved yet)”_ repeating in your head. Asra has known about this, had seen or talked or at the very least frowned at Julian before he’d left with Muriel and _he hadn’t warned you-_

“I can leave if that’s what you’d like,” Julian offers, snapping you back into the moment. The kettle is still whistling. 

You spin, pointing an imperious finger at him, “You can stay right there, and you-“ you spin again, swiping the kettle off the salamander’s heat to silence it, forgetting the rest of your sentence as you bang around the place, slamming down the kettle, gathering up dirty mugs, pouring water, dumping tea leaves, stubbing your toe off the edge of the counter. Finally you stop, breathing heavy, hands braced on the counter, all the initial shock of seeing Julian burned up. The stove salamander chirps softly behind you, telling you your tea is done steeping. 

Exhaling slowly, you stand and much more calmly this time, wash a second mug that had been abandoned on the counter from weeks before, a victim of Asra’s love of tea but hatred of doing the dishes, and fill both mugs up to the brim. 

The nearly overfull mugs of hot tea gives you something other then Julian to focus on as you round the counter carefully, eyes never straying from the liquid, even as Julian jumps up to offer you his stool. You take it, settling the mugs on the counter with a soft sigh of relief, before using your foot to push the second stool out towards him. 

“Sit.” You say, slowly sliding a mug of tea across the counter to him. He does as he’s told, dropping onto the second stool, like a marionette cut from it’s strings, and takes the mug between his palms. 

Neither of you drink. He stares at your face. You stare at his hands. 

Hands that are bare of their protective gloves, with a bright red blood flush across the knuckles that you expect will be shadowed purple with bruises before the sun sets again. Hands that held your own not a week's worth of sunrises ago. Hands that pushed and prodded at your now viciously bruised shoulder, with the care and gentleness of someone in love. 

“Why are you here?” You ask at the same time Julian asks how your shoulder feels. 

You look up to meet his gaze, ignoring the question in the hopes he’ll take the hint and answer your first. 

“To check up on you.” He says after a long pause, “That was quite the landing out of the window last night, and I still haven't seen what the stumble did to your ankle.” 

The reminder of your deceit makes your chest ache with guilt. The stove salamander coos in concern from across the kitchen. You think about how you sat in front of that stove and cried till you woke Asra up. You think about the stove salamander licking your tears up off the floor, of Asra helping you up the stairs, of a night spent in the bed that still smelled like Julian and your heart begins to spark with anger.

“-But it looks like you’ve been getting on fine without me,” Julian abandons his untouched mug of tea, the scrape of his stool pulling you from your thoughts, “So I’d best be off then.” 

You watch him take one, two, three steps towards the door before the first incredulous chuckle wheezes out of you. Julian pauses, but doesn't turn around even as your laughter continues, growing louder and wilder by the second. 

“I’ve been getting on fine without you?” You repeat, the anger in your chest fanning into full flames. “I’ve been getting on fine _without you?_ ” Launching to your feet you stalk after him, spinning him to face you with one hand on his wrist. 

The hard look on his face makes your fingers curl with the impulse to slap him

You wheel around pacing in anger, “I get on fine without you!” you scream to the dark wood ceiling above you. 

“Yes.” Julian says stiffly, “You do.”

You spin back to face him, slamming your hands down on the counter hard enough to rattle the still full mugs on the counter. You barely register the mess. “I TALK TO THE STOVE SALAMANDER BECAUSE I CAN’T TALK TO YOU!” 

A gout of flame spurts out from under the stove, singeing the hair on your ankle. You stumble away from the salamander, “Sorry.” You mumble around the sudden threat of tears, “I’m sorry, I just-” Your knees give out from underneath you, and you make no effort to stop them. Burying your face in your hands you cry, rocking back and forth as you struggle to get a grip on your emotions. 

You look up, tilting your head back as far as it will go, in an effort to force the tears back. When you open your eyes, Julian is there, looking scared and hovering his blood flush hands just inches from your blackened shoulder. 

A strangled laugh rips its way out between the tears. 

“I haven’t gotten on fine without you Julian, since the first time we kissed.” It’s a hoarse whisper, tears still warping your vocal cords with too much emotion. 

Julian’s mouth makes a soft o shape, and he sits down hard on the floor across from you, his own kind of terrible laugh spilling out of him. You tilt your head back, unable to look him in the eyes, lest you really do start crying again.

“Neither have I,” Julian says, after another delirious laugh. “If I hadn’t already known you were a magician I would call you one now, because I haven’t been the same since that kiss.” 

That pulls a lighter laugh out of you, “Oh really?” You ask, just to fill the silence, desperate not to let this moment of levity end. 

“Really, really.” Julian quips, but tiredly, like he hadn’t slept all night. You laugh softly at the thought, knowing him, he probably hadn’t. 

The two of you lapse into silence, and stay that way till the edges of it start to go awkward, and Julian whispers, “So what now?”

“Now!” You say, forcing confidence in your tone, “Now, we eat breakfast. I am thinking of fruit and maybe some of that new tea.” You haul yourself to your feet with the counter, scrubbing one cheek free of tear stains and smiling as bravely as you can manage around the other. Julian matches your smile with one just as fragile and stands up beside you.

**Author's Note:**

> Deleted Scene:  
> You, slamming your hands down on the bar: WHERE THE FUCK IS MY BOYFRIEND  
> Barkeep: Oh Julian?  
> *the sound of crashing glass*  
> Barkeep, looking behind you: actually… he just left


End file.
